


Downspell

by Terminallydepraved



Series: Works for Others [32]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Blow Jobs, First Time Blow Jobs, M/M, Massage, Public Blow Jobs, Stress Relief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 18:35:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terminallydepraved/pseuds/Terminallydepraved
Summary: Hank’s heart rate had increased once more. Despite the ministrations, it didn’t seem to be lowering like it had before. Frowning, Connor puzzled over what to do. Hank wanted to get back to work, but resuming their efforts while still stressed would only result in more dead ends. The threat of being found out was an easy one to mitigate. But how to capitalize on it…Connor’s LED cycled blue.Well… there was one more thing he could do to help Hank unwind.





	Downspell

**Author's Note:**

> finally the archive is back up and i can post this. shoutout to princessofmind over on tumblr for being the impetus behind this fic! i appreciate the support!

 

Being in the precinct after standard operating hours was rather different than being there during their usual shift. Connor couldn’t help but note the differences. It was much quieter for one, no background noise of conversation, busy work, or ringing phones to distract from the pervasive silence he hadn’t known was lingering just beneath it all. Darker too. With only Hank and him there, it had been wasteful to turn on lights away from their desk cluster. The light above their head was an island in a sea of dark. It didn’t bother Connor much, but then again, his comfort wasn’t what was being tested here tonight. 

For the third time that hour, Hank let out a long suffering sigh. Another few pages were flipped in the file, and then the whole thing was dropped onto the cluttered desk as Hank rubbed at his tired eyes. Connor cocked his head as he watched, hands folded neatly in his lap. The case they had been given to solve was indeed challenging. Challenging enough to require the overtime, and more than enough to make Hank groan into his hand. 

He was stressed. Connor didn’t need to analyze much to see that. 

Stress was unhealthy. It was unproductive unless targeted towards something concrete. Connor drummed his fingers on his desk and contemplated what to do. Their leads weren’t connecting. Perhaps they should approach things from a different angle?

“Hank, have we considered--”

A loud groan cut him off before he could finish the thought. Connor blinked, staring at Hank as he covered his face with his hands. “We’ve considered everything, Connor,” he muttered, misery thick in every word. “We’re just beating a dead horse at this point.”

Frowning, Connor bit at his lip. “There must be something we’re missing.”

“Yeah,” Hank grunted. “My fucking bed, my fucking dog, and a body that isn’t screaming from how uncomfortable this damn desk is.”

Processing. There was nothing Connor could do about the first two short of solving the case, but the latter… Connor quickly got up, the course of action displaying in his mind palace like a checklist. Relieving Hank’s stress would put him in a state more conducive to working out their current case. He moved behind the Lieutenant and assessed the way he slouched. The best way to relieve tension given their current surroundings was by way of massage. 

“What are you doing, Connor?” Hank muttered, burying his face in his hands. 

“I’m worried about you, Hank,” he answered, resting his fingertips on the Lieutenant’s shoulders. He barely needed to touch him to sense just how tightly wound he was. The tension lingered tightly in his back and shoulders, traveling up his neck to make the tendons stand out. “I don’t think this is healthy.”

A grunt of a laugh. “What was your first clue? It’s fucking inhumane.” He tried to shrug Connor off, but Connor just put his hands on Hank’s shoulders firmly. “Get off, Connor. If you’ve got the time to be worrying about me, you’ve got the time to think about how that guy was killed.”

“I promise you that I possess more than enough synapses to concern myself with both,” Connor murmured, digging his fingers into Hank’s muscle hard enough to pull a groan from the tired man. Massages weren’t included in his programming, but a quick internet search brought up enough instructional material to guide him along in what he was doing. “You need to relax, Hank. You’ll be no good to anyone if you stretch yourself too thin.”

A scoff. “Yeah, right,” Hank murmured, groaning lowly under his breath as Connor dug in his fingers and began massaging his muscles. “E-Easier said than done.”

Was it? “You seem to be responding favorably to this so far,” Connor murmured, leaning a little closer to press a kiss to Hank’s cheek. This wasn’t something built into his programming, but he could already feel several tight knots stiffening Hank’s shoulders. He scanned through the instructions in his newly downloaded protocols, keying in on the biggest of the knots to begin working it out. Dig in the thumbs, soothe the sting with the full palm… Hank groaned again, his head sagging on his shoulder. Connor couldn’t help but smile. 

“You’re damn good at this, Connor.”

Connor smiled wider. “Do you like it?” he wondered, a flicker of pride licking down his spine as his sensors indicated the knot was thoroughly worked out. He moved onto the next one, pulling another sound from Hank. “I downloaded a new protocol for it. I’m glad it’s helping.”

“It feels… really damn good.” Hank rested his hands onto the top of the desk, his fingers curling into loose fists the longer Connor worked. Heart rate slowing, brain waves evening out, the Lieutenant was gradually relaxing despite his prior assertions that he wouldn’t. Another knot eased its way into oblivion. Connor couldn’t help but move his hands higher, curling them beneath Hank’s chin to tilt his head back for another kiss--

“What are you doing?”

Connor paused, the question tickling his lips from the proximity. “I wanted to kiss you,” he answered truthfully, noting how focused Hank’s eyes were. 

Sighing, Hank closed his eyes, opening them a moment later. He tugged his head out of Connor’s hands, pulling away. “There are cameras all around the precinct,” he muttered, running a hand down his face. “Fuck. Yet another thing to worry about.”

It was hard not to frown. Hank didn’t usually deny him affection, even when he was tired. Connor moved his hands back to Hank’s shoulders, resuming the massage since that hadn’t been rebuked. “I can always erase the footage,” he offered. It’d be a simple thing. He could do it right now if he really wanted to. 

Hank just sighed louder. He leaned into Connor’s hands. He obviously wanted the contact, but duty and stress warred it out with his bodily need for succor. “It’s not worth going to that effort just to kiss,” he mumbled. “Let’s just finish this up and get back to work, okay?”

Connor blinked slowly. It wasn’t worth the effort for a kiss? What would be worth the effort? Hank’s heart rate had increased once more. Despite the ministrations, it didn’t seem to be lowering like it had before. Frowning, Connor puzzled over what to do. Hank wanted to get back to work, but resuming their efforts while still stressed would only result in more dead ends. The threat of being found out was an easy one to mitigate. But how to capitalize on it…

Connor’s LED cycled blue. 

Well… there was one more thing he could do to help Hank unwind. 

The memory from the night of the gala rose up in Connor without much prompting. Him in the stall, Hank beneath him and driving into him. The odd, stuttery dismay at being interrupted, and then the startling sensation of Nines reaching out to him through their link to question what he was doing with the Lieutenant just behind the bathroom door. It’d been a less than ideal situation, to be sure, but an educational one in the end. Nines hadn’t given them away, and in return the link had been kept open between them, sharing the experience for each other’s edification. 

From what Connor had gathered from the observation, Nines and Detective Reed were no strangers to the sorts of acts Hank and Connor enjoyed behind closed doors. Only, they seemed to do different things. Things Connor had never experienced before. Things Hank had never asked him to do. Oral sex was a facet to most physical relationships, Connor had learned. Gavin seemed to enjoy it, and Nines had enjoyed giving it. 

Hank let out a low grunt when Connor stopped working out the knots in his shoulders. Connor blinked, taking in how pliable the Lieutenant had become, how he sagged against the desk and fought to keep his eyes open. He was relaxed, but Connor could do more. He wanted to do more. Would Hank let him try?

“Hank, I’d like to try something else,” Connor said, breaking the comfortable silence that had descended on them through the massage. “With your permission, of course.”

Lifting his head arduously, Hank looked over his shoulder and raised a brow. His hair was a mess and his eyes were unfocused. “What do you have in mind?” he mumbled. It seemed the previous ministrations had softened his disposition enough to make him receptive to more of the same. How long that passivity would last, Connor didn’t know. 

“I’d like to fellate you.”

Connor could feel the exact millisecond the words permeated Hank’s thoughts. His shoulders stiffened first, then his neck. Then, he jolted roughly in his seat, whipping around hard enough to nearly topple from the chair entirely. Connor grabbed his shoulder and stabilized him. 

“What the  _ fuck,  _ Connor?!”

He should have anticipated this reaction. Connor smiled apologetically, squeezing Hank’s shoulder reassuringly. “I’d ask you to keep an open mind,” he said, noting how Hank’s breathing had quickened, his cheeks tinted pink. “At least hear me out.”

“Hear you out? The fuck are you talking about?” Hank snorted, looking at him like he was crazy. “We’re in the fucking precinct for fuck’s sake!”

Connor cocked his head to the side. “And you and I had intercourse in the bathroom during a gala,” he reminded him. “A rather public setting, Hank. Far more populated than here. And I can erase the security footage. You did say a kiss wasn’t worth the effort of doing that; surely fellating you would constitute as reason enough for such a thing.”

Hank just gaped. Connor smiled, dipping down to wrap his arms around Hank’s neck. He brought his lips close, pecking a chaste kiss to his cheek. 

“Oops,” he said flatly. “I’ve kissed you. I suppose I’ll have to erase the footage anyway. Why don’t you make it worth it?”

A muscle in Hank’s jaw tensed. His breath sharpened, his heart rate jumping a notch faster. “You’re a complete menace,” he muttered, looking Connor in the eye. Connor was pleased to see his pupils were beginning to dilate. Arousal. “What if someone sees?”

“It’s highly unlikely anyone will come by this late at night,” he answered. It was past one in the morning. Even the cleaning crews were on standby, their duties long completed and their shifts over. 

“Yeah, well, you said that about the bathroom thing too.” Hank looked past Connor’s shoulder, out towards the glass doors of the floor’s entrance. The lights were low and the building silent. Hank bit at his bottom lip. Slowly, he looked at Connor. 

Processing… Hank was nervous. Nervous, but considering. Connor eyed the desk. A quick scan told him the dimensions. “I can fit beneath your desk,” he offered, giving Hank an encouraging smile. “So, even if someone just walk in, I can just stop and you can pretend as if you’re working here alone.”

A bead of sweat formed on Hank’s temple. For some reason that seemed to increase his arousal. 

“I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

Connor perked up, beaming. “We’re doing it?”

Instead of responding, Hank just grimaced and scooted back his chair, opening up the desk for Connor. 

“This is hands down the worst thing we’ve ever done,” Hank grumbled, looking around the office as if he expected someone to burst in the second they got into a compromising position. Connor ducked down, knees meeting the floor to crawl beneath the desk. Out of sight, hopefully out of mind from anyone who may have the bad enough timing to arrive mid-act. Hank’s face twisted into a myriad array of expressions as he watched Connor slip into place. Hesitance, want, regret, excitement. “You sure you want to do this here? I promise I can go without self-destructing long enough for us to go home.”

On the contrary, Connor didn’t quite agree with that. “You may believe that,” he said, curling his legs beneath him until he was resting comfortably between Hank’s thighs, “but our work is far from over. This is the best and quickest way to provide stress relief to you.” Short of eschewing work entirely to leave the rest of the casework until tomorrow. But, that wasn’t an option. They needed results sooner rather than later; there was a killer out and about after all. 

Hank didn’t reply to that. He shifted in his seat and took another nervous look around. Teeth sank into his bottom lip, and when he glanced down at Connor again, it was with a sliver of heat that hadn’t been there before. His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. A short nod was all the agreement Connor got. A go ahead-- at least, as much of one as he was going to get when Hank still had his reservations about the whole thing. 

Connor wanted to do this, though. He wanted to pleasure Hank, and he intended to do just that. But beneath the desk, Connor was confronted with the first hurdle of the night. How was he meant to proceed? Logic would dictate he needed to free Hank’s penis from his trousers, but was there a specific way he was meant to go about it? Nines had only transmitted vague data on what he had done to Gavin. Feelings, sensations, the impersonal lines of code that translated into a running commentary of sorts that didn’t clarify so much as inform. Connor rested his hands on Hank’s thighs, staring intently at the bulge forming at his crotch. Instinct usually served humans best in these types of situations…

“Woah!” Hank yelped when Connor pressed his face between Hank’s legs to nuzzle the bulge with his lips and cheek. A hand immediately threaded through Connor’s hair, tugging him back. Hank stared at him with wide, panicked eyes. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Servicing you,” he murmured, leaning into Hank’s hand when it slowly left his hair to cup his cheek instead. Warm. “Am I doing it wrong?”

Hank stared at him for a few moments, looking away with his cheeks markedly red. “Most people start with unzipping,” he mumbled, stroking Connor’s cheekbone with his thumb. His eyes flicked back carefully. His tongue slipped out to wet his lips. “Do you know what you’re doing, Connor?”

Connor paused. Processing… Hank realized the truth before he could formulate an answer. The hand on his cheek slipped away, moving higher to stroke through Hank’s beard as the man sighed. “I know the fundamentals of it,” Connor tried to argue, feeling the situation shifting already. “If you’d feel more comfortable knowing I had a bigger knowledge base, I can download some reference material--”

“You are not downloading porn for this,” Hank hissed, and if it had been ambiguous before that he was blushing, it wasn’t now. His face was a violent red, his jaw clenched as he looked around them as if expecting someone to walk in at any moment. Which was impossible, Connor wanted to say, because no one else was scheduled for overtime like they were. But Hank was looking at him again, so he held his tongue and waited to be told what to do next. 

A lungful of breath hissed its way free from in between Hank’s teeth. He combed his fingers through Connor’s hair once more, meeting his eye carefully. “I just don’t want you doing anything you don’t want to do,” he muttered, shifting a little in his seat. “Just because I’m miserable doesn’t mean you have to go above and beyond trying to fix it for me.”

Connor blinked. “That isn’t at all what I was intending to do with this,” he told Hank, cocking his head to the side. “I’ve wanted to perform oral sex for you before. Now just seemed a good time to bring it up.”

Hank just stared at him. “You’re sense of timing definitely needs an update,” he muttered, making himself comfortable. “An update or something. Fuck. Go for it if you’re gonna do it. Just try not to slobber all over my pants. We still have to go home after this.”

Smiling, Connor nodded. “Of course.” He reached for the zipper with his hand this time, tugging it down to reveal Hank’s boxers. The bulge of his erection strained against the fabric, half-hard and growing every second Connor stared. Another tug and Connor had it poking through the open flap in the garment. Hank hissed out a breath. Responding to the cooler open air, Connor gathered. To test the theory, he let out a breath against the head. Hank shivered, his penis hardening fully from the stimulation. 

“You’re reacting very strongly,” Connor reported, earning a bit of a groan from Hank that compelled him to cock his head. “Is there anything I should know before I begin?”

“Fuck, Connor, it’s not rocket science,” Hank groaned, shifting and shuffling impatiently. He looked around the precinct once more, a flush growing on his cheeks. “Just… feel things out for yourself. Do what feels natural.”

Natural? Connor took the shaft of Hank’s penis in hand, staring at it intently. What felt natural wasn’t how Connor typically did things. It was a rather subjective way to go about things, wasn’t it? Did Hank mean he wanted Connor to acclimate himself to this act at his own pace? While he pondered it, he began stroking Hank. This at least was familiar to him, and it bought him time to review the information he’d gleamed from Nines’s performance before taking it into his mouth himself. 

The head was most sensitive by way of the several thousand nerve endings collected in the tip. Nines had eschewed teasing, but Hank had told Connor to do what he felt was natural, and Connor wanted to gather more information as was natural to his programming. With the tip of his tongue, Connor leaned forward and swiped the head of Hank’s penis, tasting the flesh and teasing moisture gathering against the slit. Hank jolted with a grunt. He settled quickly enough, though, so Connor largely ignored him. The make up of this new sample ran across Connor’s mind palace. Interesting. 

A part of him wanted to report to Hank the findings. There were some nutritional deficiencies made apparent from the taste, but Connor knew something like that could wait until after. Connor lowered his head once more and gave Hank another lick instead. Then another. One to the tip and the next to the shaft, then another beneath the swollen head where the vein disappeared. Hank’s respiration grew labored. Connor opened his mouth…

“Fuck,” Hank bit, closing his eyes the moment Connor took him into his mouth. He was only a few inches deep, perhaps no more than half the entire length, but the reaction seemed to speak for itself already. Hank blinked rapidly, alternating between staring and looking away. His thighs tightened around Connor’s shoulders. Connor processed it all, storing it away for later review, and bobbed his head the way Nines had done, only to a slower degree. Gavin had crumpled and ejaculated rather fast; Connor, on the other hand, wanted Hank to savor this. 

It was a simple thing to create a rhythm that worked well with what he wanted to accomplish. With a free hand, Connor stroked the shaft as his mouth bobbed up and down. Each time he moved, he lowered his head a bit more, taking Hank deeper, experimenting all the while to test what gave the best reaction. Stimulation to the head was met with harsh, strained gasps. Running his tongue along the vein on the underside of Hank’s penis elicited shudders and choked whimpers. On a whim, Connor cupped Hank’s testicles in his palm. His lips met the base of his penis. Result…?

Hank shivered. Every muscle in his body seemed tensed and on edge, his hands locked around the arms of his chair as he struggled to keep from bucking into Connor’s mouth. Why? Connor didn’t have the sort of human inadequacies anyone else performing such an act would have to worry about. He had no gag reflex, no real need to breathe other than to keep up the cosmetic illusion of realness. All could be easily pushed aside, so why did Hank hold back? Connor furrowed his brow and applied harsher suction, bobbing his head a little faster. More thirium saliva filled his mouth, spilling past the corners of his lips to drip down his chin messily. 

“C-Connor, fuck,” Hank gasped, finally letting go of the armrest to grip Connor’s hair in his hand. Connor looked up, lips pursed around the base of his penis. Hank’s respiration had increased. Through the pulsating flesh sitting on his tongue, Connor could easily read his heart rate. “You’re too good at this.”

The words… It was illogical, Connor thought, that hearing something like that would stutter his programming. Intensely illogical really, but it did anyway. He lost count of his analysis, forgetting for the moment the bodily readings he had been taking so carefully. Warmth filled his core. Pride? Yes, perhaps… perhaps he felt pride at being praised for this. For excelling at something that certainly wasn’t in his programming. For making Hank feel good. 

That hand in his hair tore him from his musings as Hank carded his fingers through his hair. Connor blinked. Odd. When Nines had performed oral sex for Detective Reed, his hair had been yanked and pulled. Gavin had fucked his mouth ruthlessly, using his grip on Nines’s hair to guide him down harder and faster and deeper. Connor furrowed his brow and watched Hank sag into his seat, weakly combing through his hair, petting him. 

A cursory analysis yielded the thought that maybe he wasn’t doing as good a job as Nines had done. But, Hank seemed to be enjoying himself. Connor watched Hank flush and moan, trying and failing to stifle himself when closing in on his orgasm. Then again, Hank was a very different person than Detective Reed. It stood to reason they would prefer different things. And Hank had always preferred taking things slow with Connor. This was probably the same thing--

“You’re thinking too much,” Hank mumbled, breaking Connor from his thoughts. His eyes were dazed and dark, but his mouth was curled into a smile. He tugged on Connor’s hair a little before moving his hand to his cheek, feeling himself through the thin artificial skin. “Fuck, Connor. You feel good. Get off me so I can cum.”

Connor shook his head slightly. Hank frowned a little, but Connor just sucked harder, unwilling to pull off just to tell him that he wanted him to do it in his mouth. He gripped Hank’s trousers in his hand and buried his face in Hank’s lap. The hand moved back to his hair, tugging harder, then harder, desperate in a way it hadn’t been before.

“Fuck, fuck, Connor, come on,” Hank groaned. “Get off, I’m gonna c…  _ Ngh.”  _

Every sensor in Connor’s body keyed in on Hank as he orgasmed. The sharp scent of sweat and endorphins tickled his nose. The hypersensitive sensors dizzied him as line after line of analysis readings flooded his mind palace. Semen coated his tongue and chin, trickling down his throat. Connor let Hank’s softening penis rest on his tongue as it emptied, content to sit and watch Hank go through the motions of a release he so clearly needed. 

He was handsome. The thought came through all the analysis and updates, the only thought Connor really cared to entertain right now. He swallowed, watching Hank shiver and gasp and melt into the chair. He was handsome in his pleasure and handsome now in the aftershocks. Connor pulled his face away from Hank’s crotch, wiping at the semen dripping from his chin. He could see why Nines did this so readily for Detective Reed. It was nice knowing he’d been the one to bring Hank to such a state. 

“God, you look like a mess.”

“That should be expected,” Connor said, carefully catching any drops of semen before they could dirty his trousers. “You ejaculated more than you usually do. You’ve been neglecting yourself, Hank.”

Hank made a disgruntled noise as he furiously adjusted himself back into his pants. “These hours we’re keeping don’t exactly give me much time to jerk off, genius,” he muttered, reaching for something on his desk next. Connor blinked when something white and stiff met his cheek. “Clean yourself up already.”

Napkins, Connor realized once he took them in hand. From the takeout Hank had ordered earlier that evening. They still smelled vaguely of teriyaki. Connor wiped his face and hands clean, and crawled out from under the desk when Hank scooted his chair back enough to let him. He tossed the crumpled up napkins into the trash can and then sat himself on the edge of Hank’s desk. He smiled at Hank. 

“What?” Hank muttered, scooting his chair back up to the desk, his elbow brushing Connor’s thigh. “You’re looking awfully proud of yourself.”

“You enjoyed using my mouth,” he replied easily, smiling wider when Hank began to sputter. “I’m glad to have been able to help you relax.”

Hank looked at him through narrowed eyes, his lips curled into a petulant frown. Connor’s eyes widened when the man hooked his hand around the back of his neck. “Yeah, yeah, gloat about it, why don’t you,” Hank muttered, dragging him down into a kiss. A contradiction, Connor’s mind supplied helpfully. If he wanted him to gloat, he shouldn’t have occupied Connor’s mouth. 

But it was okay. It was okay because Connor rather liked kissing. More than he liked gloating, at least, and Hank seemed to feel the same as well. 

Connor sat on the edge of the desk, case files forgotten for the moment. The answers were there for them, hiding just out of reach, but for right now, they could focus on this instead. The taste of Hank’s saliva, the warmth of his hands against Connor’s face, and the sparking, distracting pleasure that came from doing a job well done. 

“You’re gonna kill me one of these days,” Hank murmured, breaking the kiss long enough to stare into Connor’s eyes. “You know that, right?”

Impossible, Connor wanted to say. Statistically impossible. He’d rip out his own thirium pump before he harmed Hank. 

But he couldn’t say that. So, instead, he smiled. He smiled and kissed Hank once more. 

The night could be long and the job before them seemingly insurmountable, but so long as they were together, Connor knew they would see it through. And once that was done, they could go home and kiss more and then start it all over again come morning. It was a perfect life, really. As perfect as Connor could imagine life getting for someone like him. He had to think Hank felt the same way too given how tightly he held his waist. 

Hank broke the kiss to breathe, though, and Connor pulled back with a smile. “Ready to get back to work?” he asked the man, tucking a lock of Hank’s hair behind his ear. 

A snort. A derisive, humored snort before Hank glanced down at his papers and desk once more. “Sure,” he said, tugging on Connor’s leg until he got off the desk. “The sooner we finish this case the sooner we can go home and I can pass the fuck out. And no more distractions from you,” Hank said, pointing a finger at Connor. If he intended it to be serious, he failed. “I don’t need anyone walking in on anything unseemly.” 

Connor smiled and moved back behind his own desk. “Of course, Hank,” he chuckled. He’d just have to remind himself to erase the security camera footage for the evening before they went home first. Something told him Hank wouldn’t appreciate sharing this evening with anyone else. Tonight was just for them. “Let’s get back to work.”

**Author's Note:**

> whelp thats it for me on fics for awhile. ive been sick and neglecting my book projects, so ill be on fic hiatus for a week or two while i get caught back up again. check me out on tumblr (terminallydepraved for fandom, tdcloud for book stuff) and twitter (tdcloud_writes) to hear all about my life and woes and where i retweet all my detroit art. leave a comment if you enjoyed, and as always, until next time!


End file.
